


No Spoken Word

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, First Time, M/M, Post-Season/Series Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-14 22:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14145615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: Post series, Blair is working as a consultant Forensic Anthropologist at the PD.  Although still working with Jim when needed, he is no longer living in the loft, the deeper relationship he longed for with his sentinel and friend never having developed.  Then a terrible accident draws the two men together again in ways they would could never have foreseen.  NOT a Death story!





	1. Prompt - Wounded

**Author's Note:**

> A SenBingo story in 5 Chapters / Prompts  
> 1\. Wounded  
> 2\. State of disarray  
> 3\. Wild card – Bedside Vigil  
> 4\. Telepathy  
> 5\. Chosen family

**Chapter 1: Introduction: Prompt – Wounded.**   


Cursing fluently under her breath, Megan glanced at her watch as she trotted up the wide stone flight of steps leading up to Cascade’s imposing central courthouse. She was running late, through no fault of her own, but didn’t assuage her temper any. Like most cops, she hated court days, but if she had to be here, then the last thing she needed was to arrive stressed out and gasping for breath like a stranded fish. It was an important case after all for which she was scheduled to testify, and she was determined to do her best to make sure that the sleazebag paedophile Major Crimes had been pursuing for months was finally put away for good. 

Glancing up towards the main doors, she suddenly recognised a familiar figure nearing the top of the steps, and her bad temper was immediately replaced by her more usual cheerful demeanour. Just approaching the entrance was her best mate, Dr Blair Sandburg, all spruced up and obviously prepared to deliver his own expert testimony. He was in what he jokingly called his ‘court getup’. A good suit, shirt and tie, and his best shoes. And she knew he hated it, still preferring his casual flannel and denim whenever possible. 

Having said that, he had cut his hair after all, despite his previous denials, but as far as Megan was concerned, it really suited him. Although it had gone against the grain, he had regretfully accepted that his long curls and ponytail did nothing to help convey the ‘respectable image’ he needed to assume now if he was to be taken seriously in his role of expert witness, especially as there were still those who remembered the dissertation fiasco in the not-too-distant past. For everyone’s sake, the fewer visible reminders there were of that whole business and the identity of its principal players, the better it was. It wasn’t too short a cut, though, and the mop of curls haloed his head, making him even more edible than before in Megan’s not-so-humble opinion. And he had always been an attractive man. Beautiful, even, in a purely masculine way. The only reason she hadn’t made a play for him herself was that she had always assumed that he and Jim Ellison were an item, or soon would be, and she didn’t want to get between them. Plus the fact that she really liked the idea that her Sandy could be her best mate without complications. 

Then again, looking at it from Sandy’s point of view, she realised now that it was a crying shame that, like many of her colleagues in the Major Crimes bullpen, she had misread the situation between the two men, and the assumed deeper relationship had turned out to be just a figment of too many vivid imaginations. For sure, they were still friends, and Sandy worked with Jim whenever he was needed, but he no longer lived at the loft, having found himself a decent enough apartment a few blocks away. And if anyone within the PD still speculated about the whole ‘sentinel’ issue, they adopted a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ attitude. The mess was over and done with and as far as they were concerned, it had been allowed to die a natural death. And if Jim Ellison continued to excel at his job, then so be it. It was what it was, and the whole department benefited. 

Trotting up a few more steps, Megan called out to her friend, her voice carrying easily above the general hubbub arising from those moving around and between her and Sandy and the background traffic noise. 

Turning to seek her out, his face wreathed in a welcoming grin, Blair began to retrace his steps in order to meet up with his friend, when the scene changed dramatically in the most awful way. Afterwards, Megan would always remember how everything had happened so quickly, yet seemed to do that dreadful ‘slow motion’ thing in front of her very eyes. One moment, she was grinning fondly at the vision of her friend almost bouncing down the steps to greet her, aware of, but not really taking any notice of a noisy group also descending the steps a few feet away. The next thing she registered peripherally was another man purposefully climbing up the steps on her other side, who was wearing a long, dark overcoat that flapped open as he approached. Pulling the coat aside, he drew out a large calibre semi auto pistol, aiming and firing at the descending group with deadly intent. 

The trouble was that by that time Sandburg was between him and his intended targets, with no way of getting out of the line of fire. Megan screamed in horror as at least two bullets slammed into her friend, throwing him backwards to crack his head on the unforgiving steps behind him. More shots followed, as the armed police supposedly guarding the courthouse entrance opened fire and took the shooter down, but Megan only had eyes for Sandy. Throwing herself to her knees, she reached a trembling hand up to caress his cheek, horrified at the blood already soaking the hated ‘court getup’, and the wide blue eyes staring sightlessly from the shocked, white face. 

“Call 911! Officer down!” she screamed out furiously at the shocked onlookers before murmuring brokenly, “Oh, Sandy! Don’t do this, mate. Stay with me, please! I’m so sorry….”  


To be continued.  



	2. Prompt - State of disarray

**Chapter 2: Prompt – State of disarray.**   


**Cascade General Hospital, ER:**  


“Where is he? Where’s Sandburg? I have to see him!” The tall figure of Detective Jim Ellison burst through the entrance to the ER like the proverbial unstoppable force, his handsome features strained and pale with anger, shock and fear for his friend. His general state of disarray was testament to the urgency of his journey to the hospital, his unkempt appearance the complete opposite to his usual well-groomed and rigidly controlled persona and smart if casual attire. 

Rising to his feet, Simon Banks left his seat in the waiting area, swiftly closing the distance between him and his stricken subordinate and friend. Reaching out to grasp a powerful upper arm, he commanded Jim’s attention, his words and tone firm but reasonable. 

“Easy, Jim. He’s being treated as we speak, and no, you can’t go in there yet, man. It’s serious, I know that much, and I also know you wouldn’t want me to lie to you. But I have no real details as yet, so you might as well wait here with me. I’m truly sorry, Jim, but Sandburg’s always been a fighter, and I see no reason why he won’t keep on doing so.” 

Jim looked as if he wanted to argue, and Simon half expected him to pull away, but instead he huffed out a heavy sigh, and rubbed a weary hand over his beard-stubbled face. 

“What happened, Simon?” he muttered, the anguish in his voice cutting Simon to the quick. “I was trying to get some rest after that all-night stakeout at the docks when I got Rhonda’s message. I’d only been in bed about an hour or so.” 

“Which is why you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards,” Simon replied wryly, not intentionally trying for humour under the circumstances. “Look, come into the waiting room over here, man. Megan’s there, and she can tell you better than I can.” 

Nodding distractedly, Jim allowed himself to be ushered into the side area; glancing over at Megan’s equally dishevelled figure slumped in one of the generic plastic covered padded chairs. Seeing the blood on her clothing, he frowned as he addressed her quietly. “You OK, Connor? Were you hurt too?” 

Looking up to meet his gaze, her devastated expression said it all as she replied hoarsely, “No, Jimbo. This is all Sandy’s blood.” Then her eyes filled with tears which ran unchecked down her normally pretty face as she continued abjectly, “I’m so sorry, Jimbo. It was all my fault! He walked straight into the line of fire, and there was nothing I could do!” 

Jim forced back a fleeting, dark urge to shake more information out of her, knowing that she didn’t deserve it, and that his primal desire for a physical manifestation of his rage was unjustifiable even if it would be momentarily gratifying. He therefore controlled himself with an effort, and grabbed another chair, seating himself before her as Simon pulled up another for himself alongside. 

“Start from the beginning, Megs, please,” he said, reaching out to take her cold hands in his. “Why do you say it was your fault?” 

“Oh, Jimbo. It’s so bloody awful; so bloody unfair!” she replied. “I was at the courthouse to testify in the Blumberg trial, and I saw Sandy just about to go in ahead of me. So I called to him. He came down the steps towards me, and that bastard shooter opened up at another group just as Sandy got between him and his targets. It was pure bad luck, and Sandy had no chance, Jimbo. No chance at all! But then, if I hadn’t have called to him…,”and her voiced tailed off in a choking sob as her tears spilled over again. 

“Shit!” groaned Jim, rubbing his forehead with a shaky hand. “How does it always happen to him? When he first started riding with me, we used to joke about him being a trouble magnet. But I thought he’d be safer now he’s got a consultant’s position rather than partnering me all the time. Guess I was wrong. Again!” he added forcefully. 

Just then, he stopped and tilted his head to one side, a frown of concentration settling between his brows. 

“Stop it, Jim!” Simon barked, shaking his friend’s arm. “Stop trying to check on him with the senses, man, he continued more quietly but still forcefully. “You’re too tired, and you could zone! And he’s still the only one who can pull you out easily! Besides, you’re out of practice aren’t you? You said you haven’t been using them that much lately.” 

Shaking himself, Jim turned reluctantly to face his boss, a pained expression on his face. “It’s OK, Simon. I mean, no, I won’t let myself zone. Even if I don’t use the senses much these days, I can always find Blair. It’s automatic where he’s concerned. Right now he’s being prepped for OR. His heartbeats are irregular and they’re trying to get as much blood into him as possible to replace what he’s lost. But what’s worrying them the most at the moment is his head injury. He’ll be taken for scans first….” 

As he spoke, the gurney bearing Blair’s unconscious form was wheeled by, the medical personnel accompanying him grimly professional as they hurried to the elevators. A young doctor in blood-stained scrubs followed, but stopped when he saw the three in the waiting area. 

“Are you here for Mr Sandburg?” he asked, unperturbed when Jim corrected him automatically. 

_“Doctor_ Sandburg. Not Mister.” 

“Thank you. I stand corrected. So, are you here for Doctor Sandburg? I’m afraid I can’t tell you much unless you are his next of kin.” 

“It’s OK, Dr Erikson,” Simon broke in, quickly reading the man’s ID badge. “Detective Ellison here has Doctor Sandburg’s enduring Power of Attorney, so has responsibility for all his legal, financial and medical affairs while he is indisposed. And Inspector Connor and myself are close friends and colleagues of Doctor Sandburg also. I’m Captain Simon Banks of Cascade PD’s Major Crimes Unit.” 

”Fair enough,” the young doctor replied, smiling tiredly. “Let’s go back to the waiting area and I’ll fill you in as much as I can.” 

As soon as they were all seated, the weary-looking young physician brought them up to speed as patiently and sympathetically as he could, for which all three were most grateful. Looking frankly from one to the other in turn, he began. 

“First of all, I need to say that in one sense, Dr Sandburg was extremely lucky, even if it doesn’t seem so at the moment. I say that because, if either of the bullets that hit him had been from head on rather than at an upwards angle, he would undoubtedly be dead now. The bullet that hit his chest was deflected by his ribs and sternum to exit through his right shoulder. Otherwise it would have penetrated his heart, and that would have been that. Having said that, it also damaged one of his lungs during its progress, which will need re-inflating and repairing. He’ll undoubtedly need to be on a respirator for a while to give it a chance to heal. 

“The second bullet hit him in the abdomen, probably as he was thrown up and backwards, so again through and through. It has caused considerable damage to that area, including nicking the intestines. We will have to put him on some pretty heavy-duty antibiotics once he’s out of surgery to ward off the very real danger of peritonitis. 

“However, despite the loss of blood and collapsed lung, both wounds should heal satisfactorily in due course as long as there is no infection. Vital organs escaped injury, and although extensive, it is basically soft tissue damage. 

“What we’re more concerned about at the moment is the possibility of the brain swelling due to the heavy impact of Dr Sandburg’s head against the stone steps. There is a significant laceration to the scalp at the back of his skull, and a full set of scans will need to be taken to ascertain the extent of the damage beneath. Only once that information is available will we be able to make a better diagnosis. And prognosis, of course. 

“So, what I suggest is that you go home, get cleaned up and get something to eat, and then call back later for an update once you’ve rested. Dr Sandburg will be in theatre for some time yet, and then in recovery before being admitted, and then it will be to the ICU, where visiting is limited anyway.” 

Jim was already shaking his head in frustrated denial as Simon once again intervened, grasping Jim’s forearm in a strong grip as he shot a repressive glance at his irate friend. 

“Thank you for your patience, Dr Erikson. We all appreciate everything you’ve been able to tell us, and we know that Blair – Dr Sandburg – is in good hands. 

“However, I’m sure that, if you’ll check Dr Sandburg’s medical records, there will be a note to the effect that he will benefit from Detective Ellison’s presence during his recovery. There will be a similar one in Detective Ellison’s file also, as both men have had cause to be admitted here on several occasions, alas. 

“So, while I agree that Jim should do as you suggest, and get cleaned up and fed, he will want to be here for when Blair wakes up.” 

The young doctor pursed his lips, frowning in consternation as he took a minute or two to consider Simon’s words. Finally, however, he nodded somewhat reluctantly. “OK, Captain Banks. I’ll pass on your information to the staff in the ICU. I’m sure that, once Dr Sandburg is settled, they will allow Detective Ellison access. But only you, sir,” he continued, addressing Jim directly at last. “And I can’t speak for how long they’ll allow you to stay. You’ll have to take that up with them. 

“But if you’ll all excuse me, I must get on. I still have a couple of hours to go before my shift ends.” 

Thanking him, they watched his departing back before Simon took charge once again. 

“OK, then, you two. I’m taking you both home to get some food and to clean up, and then I’ll drive you back here, Jim. Not you, though, Megan,” he added kindly. “You need to get some proper rest after what you’ve been through today. Don’t worry. Either Jim or I’ll keep you updated on Blair’s progress, and you can come back tomorrow. I’m sure Jim’ll still be here!” 

Jim’s expression was still mulish, but he saw the sense in both the doctor’s and Simon’s advice. He needed to be as fresh as he could be if he was to be of any use to Blair when he woke. Kid didn’t need to be scared out of his wits by a bedraggled, unshaven scarecrow peering at him. 

But once he got back here, they wouldn’t be able to shift him again. He’d be here for the duration. He’d make sure of that.  



	3. Prompt - (wild card) - Bedside Vigil

**Chapter 3: Bedside Vigil – Prompt – Wild Card.**   
**Next morning, Cascade ICU:**   


Jim stood and stretched, rolling his head and neck to get rid of the stiffness in muscles hunched for too long in an awkward position. His long limbs thanked him for the movement, but he still went reluctantly, and only because he was being shifted out of his chair in Blair’s ICU cubicle so that the nursing staff could carry out their necessary duties. Once Simon had driven him back to the hospital as promised; Jim having showered, changed and forced down a sandwich to honour his side of the bargain; he had remained for the rest of the night pretty much continuously at his friend’s bedside. 

Thanks partly due to the note in Blair’s medical records, and to his own undisputed charm, (on occasions such as this when he could be bothered to exercise it), he had managed to persuade the attending physician and the ICU staff to let him stay with the still deeply unconscious man for far longer than the usual ten minutes per hour. Having said that, there had been several times during the night when he had been required to leave, so he had taken those opportunities to scrounge cups of decent coffee from the nurses’ station, and take quick bathroom breaks. 

As far as sleep was concerned, although he had been desperately tired already following the previous night’s stakeout, he wouldn’t allow himself to do more than doze intermittently in the chair provided for him. His senses were attuned to every aspect of Blair’s physical condition, and the slightest differences were enough to bring him fully awake again. Not that there had been much in the way of change one way or the other as yet, but realistically Jim knew that that was to be expected. He knew that Blair’s surgery had been long and complicated, and had been informed that the most dangerous aspect had been the operation to remove tiny bone splinters resulting from a fracture at the base of his skull. He had been shocked to learn that it was the blow to Blair’s head when falling that proved to be the most life-threatening of his injuries after all. 

So now Blair lay, silent and unnaturally still in his bed, his abdomen and torso swathed in heavy bandages and attached to various monitors and drainage tubes. IVs in both arms carried nutrients and antibiotics to the damaged body, while a respirator pumped rhythmically, helping his injured lung to inflate and heal. His head was also wrapped in thick dressings, so that, between them and the bandages holding the respirator tubing in place, very little of Blair’s face was visible. Jim could see enough, however, to know that Blair’s skin was paler than he would have expected, even under the present circumstances, and the sturdy and compact frame beneath the hospital bedding was also much thinner than he recalled. It would seem that Blair hadn’t been taking as much care of himself as he should since moving out of the loft, and Jim had to wonder why. And also wonder why he hadn’t noticed before. They might no longer live under the same roof, but they still saw each other at the PD, and Blair always made himself available to ride with Jim whenever Jim needed backup for the senses, even if those occasions were getting less frequent. But right now it was one too many things to contemplate, so he pushed it aside for now, deciding to analyse any implications later once Blair was out of danger. Because that was all that mattered for the moment. 

Smiling sadly as he moved aside to let Trudy, the day nurse, go about her business checking dressings and generally making sure the injured man was as comfortable as possible, Jim reflected that at least this time she didn’t have to worry overmuch about tying back unruly locks. Blair’s now shorter style might be easier for the nursing staff to deal with, but secretly Jim still missed the long curls. They had been part of the Blair Sandburg, hyper-active grad student, partner and roomie he had grown used to, and the new, ‘grown up’ version, although still incredibly attractive, seemed more self-contained and unattainable. But perhaps he had every right to be. Self-preservation was catching, and Jim should know. He was past master at it after all. 

Glancing once more at Blair’s still form, Jim suddenly flashed back to the other times he had seen Blair in this situation. His gut clenched as he recalled too many hospital visits. Blair had been shot, beaten, had OD’d on Golden, and even - _oh shit! - Drowned!_

And all because of his loyalty to Jim. His _love_ for Jim. It was too much to take in. 

Suddenly close to tears, Jim muttered a word of apology to Trudy and let himself out of the cubicle, needing to be alone for a few moments while he got himself back under control. 

Sitting in the otherwise empty waiting room, Jim breathed deeply, forcing back his tears as he scolded himself roundly for his pity party. Undoubtedly it was a combination of weariness and anxiety which had brought on his near meltdown, but he told himself that there was no place for such self-indulgent crap here and now. He had spent long enough wallowing in self-righteous indignation, and he had had enough of it. This was about Blair, not him, and he’d do well to remember that. 

Just then a welcome face appeared around the doorway, and Jim offered his boss a wan smile as the older man entered and sat beside him. 

“Hey, Simon. You’re early. Anything I should know, or are you here for information about Blair’s progress?” 

“Both, really, Jim,” Simon replied, his shrewd glance taking in his friend’s haggard features. “I’d like to hear about the kid first, of course. What do you know?” 

So Jim told him about the surgery and about the head injury, unsurprised when Simon’s expression grew grim. 

“Well, damn, Jim. That boy never does things by half, does he? So, when do they think he’ll wake up? Any idea?” 

“Not yet, Simon. It could be days. And when he does, it might be a while before they can tell how much damage was done. At the moment, it’s a case of watching out for swelling of the brain and staving off any infections.” 

They shared a speaking look, and sat silent for a moment, both knowing what the other was thinking. Was Blair brain damaged, and if so, how badly? But there was no point in borrowing trouble, so after a few minutes, Simon cleared his throat and gave Jim the rest of his news. 

“Anyway, Jim, I thought you’d like to hear what I’ve found out about the incident. Apparently the target was Councilman Trago. The one who was indicted for embezzling city funds? He was in court yesterday, and somehow was acquitted of all charges, even though the world and his wife know the slimeball’s as crooked as they come. So it seems that someone with an axe to grind set up a professional hit to get him when he left the courthouse, and that’s when Sandburg found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time yet again. And since the shooter was dead at the scene, we have no leads at present as to who set up the hit.” 

Jim’s jaw tightened in silent fury as he listened to Simon’s explanation. In actual fact, he could care less whether Trago survived or not. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have mourned if the guy had died, knowing how many folks had been tricked out of their hard-earned savings by the conman-turned-city-councillor. 

All he cared about was that Blair had been hurt because of it, so whether the perpetrator was eventually caught or not mattered not one wit to the angry sentinel. There would be plenty of candidates to choose from anyhow amongst the many victims of Trago’s crooked practices. 

Finally turning to face Simon, his expression cold and hard, he ground out, “Maybe the next time it’ll be successful. As long as no other innocents get hurt, I say good riddance to that scumbag. He’s a waste of space. And I wouldn’t want to waste my time seeking out the culprit.” 

Looking shocked, Simon admonished, “I didn’t hear you say that, Detective. I know how you must feel about Sandburg, but I can’t listen to that stuff from one of my people.” 

“Yeah, well, ‘Protect and Serve’ sucks when it comes to some folks, sir,” Jim muttered unrepentantly. “But right now all I care about is Blair.” 

Simon nodded in rueful understanding, but felt compelled to pursue the subject of Jim’s obduracy in terms of staying here with Sandburg. For sure, it had been SOP for both partners while they were working and living so closely together, but now it seemed out of place. Although he would have expected Jim to be upset and concerned, this behaviour was more what he’d expect from the early days. 

“You know, Jim, I’m a bit surprised to find you still here, and set on one of your bedside vigils. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I know you’re still fond of the kid, but since the whole dissertation thing, and what’s happened since, I thought the pair of you had moved on to a certain extent, even though Blair’s always insisted on being around for you if you need him. I mean, I admit that at one point I thought you two were together, or going that way, in which case your mutual care and concern for each other was understandable. It’s also understandable between long-term police partners, and I guess for the ‘sentinel and guide’ thing too. But you don’t work together so much now. Hell, you don’t even want to use the senses when you can avoid it, so I have to think that it’s because you don’t want Blair with you as much. He moved out of his own accord after all, so things have to have cooled between you even though you did help him sort his life out.” 

For a long moment, Jim just stared at his oldest friend, his expression a mix of consternation, anger and affront. Simon had just voiced questions that Jim had avoided considering for the longest time, and now it seemed as if time was up. No more hiding from the truth. 

But could he bring himself to discuss it here, of all places? Then again, if not, who else would he do it with? Perhaps it would be better to clear the air now, and see where it left him. His conscience dictated as much. 

Looking away for a few seconds in order to marshal his thoughts, he heaved a sigh and turned back to meet Simon’s sympathetic gaze. 

“Look, Simon, this isn’t easy for me, and I’m not sure I can give you the whole picture here when I haven’t even thought it through properly myself if I’m to be honest. You know me – avoidance and repression are my middle names. But perhaps by laying it out between us, I can get the answers we both want. 

“When the shit hit the fan with that damned diss, I know I immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion. I _know_ that. And I’m not proud of it, especially as he’s proved time and time again that it’s not his loyalty that is in doubt. I automatically thought he’d sold me out, and I didn’t even listen when he tried to explain about Naomi’s part in it. I was so angry with him anyway for not taking more precautions to protect it. 

“And then I saw that press conference, and I’ve never been more ashamed of myself. Ashamed for doubting him, and ashamed for letting it ride and not ‘fessing up to the senses. I could have helped him then, but I didn’t. 

“And let’s face it, Simon. That badge offer was never going to fly, and it’s a good job that Blair realised it.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Simon muttered thoughtfully. “It was always the last straw, really. A last ditch effort at attempting to give back a little of what he had lost. But at least your father came through for him anyway,” he added on an up-beat note. 

He was taken aback when Jim threw back his head and laughed bitterly at his comment. 

“Oh yeah, he did, Simon. But not willingly, I promise you. Dad did pull out the big guns for Blair, but it wasn’t for any altruistic reason. He was furious at the hassle the media put him through, and he would have been quite happy to hang Blair out to dry for being so careless. But I insisted that I still needed him, and that he had been shafted worse than I’d been, so he gave way. That’s how come his big-shot lawyers worked so hard to sue Berkshire Publishing and force Rainier to admit that the diss had never been submitted as such. And why they let Blair submit his alternative diss in its place. 

“It was for me and the Ellison family’s good name, that’s all. And as far as Blair’s person is concerned, our influence is little less than toxic.” 

Simon looked shell-shocked at Jim’s disclosure, it being the last thing he had expected. No wonder Blair had moved out then, knowing that Jim’s father hated him so much, and still held him responsible despite his efforts to clear Blair’s name. Knowing the kid, he realised that Blair would have done his best to get with the programme and do what was needed to both get some sort of life back, and stop poisoning Jim’s. It was just the sort of selfless thing the kid would do. 

Except that he was hardly a ‘kid’ anymore. And Simon realised with a guilty start that he would have to stop thinking about Sandburg that way. The kid – no, _young man_ – had bigger balls than anyone he knew, including Jim and himself, and he cursed himself for not seeing it until now. 

But it wasn’t the time for self-recrimination. Now he had to get back to work, and do what he had to do as captain of MCU. But when he was able, he intended to be there for his hurting friend, and for the young man who made sense of all of this – no pun intended. There was no other option. 

Reaching out to squeeze Jim’s shoulder comfortingly, Simon stood and took his leave. “Thanks, Jim, for telling me all this. I appreciate it, my friend, and I hope that it hasn’t been too painful for you. 

“Then again, what am I saying? Of course it’ll have hurt. But I hope in the long run it’ll have helped you too. As it’s helped me to understand where you two are coming from. 

“What my sincere wish is, that maybe, just maybe, this whole damned affair might work to truly clear the air between you both, so you can be what you were meant to be. And if that sounds way ‘out there’ and uncharacteristic for this old cynic, then so be it. Never too old for enlightenment, you know. That’s what Daryl says, and he thinks the world of Sandburg, so who’s to say it’s not right?” 

Thoroughly bemused and shocked into silence, all Jim could do was offer his friend a smile and nod of appreciation as he shook Simon’s hand, swallowing around a huge lump of emotion in his throat as the big man strode back down the corridor. His prosaic and cynical captain had just given him the shove he had needed to face up to his very real need and affection for his guide. Who knew? 

And who was he to deny that shove and avoid getting with the programme at long last.  


\------------------------------------  


Later that day, Jim was once again sitting beside his sleeping guide when he became aware of a face peering wistfully through the window from the corridor outside. Megan had arrived, and plainly wanted news of her best mate, so Jim rose to his feet with a pat to Blair’s blanket-covered knee. 

“Be back soon, buddy,” he murmured as he made his way out of the cubicle, offering Megan a slight smile as he took her arm to guide her to the waiting area. 

Once seated, he was able to truly take in her appearance, genuinely disturbed at what he could see. 

Although outwardly much improved from the last time he had seen her, daubed as she had been in his guide’s drying blood, her face was pale and drawn, eyes shadowed by dark, blue-stained marks like bruises and completely devoid of their normal cheerful sparkle. 

“Hey, Megs,” he murmured worriedly, not even trying to mask his concern for his guide’s best mate. “Are you OK? I thought you’d still be in court.” 

“Uh, yeah. I was, Jimbo. I had to complete my testimony about Blumberg. The judge was sympathetic about my absence yesterday under the circumstances. As she was about Sandy’s. And daft as it sounds, I think that worked in our favour,” and she laughed harshly, the cynicism uppermost in her tone and expression. “I guess the news about the shooting filtered through to the jury somehow, and they couldn’t wait to declare him guilty, even without Sandy’s testimony. Sad but true. Bet Sandy won’t see it that way though. He’ll probably feel he’s partly to blame for the super-fast unanimous ‘guilty’ verdict even if the bastard deserved it!” 

Knowing that she had pegged his partner exactly, Jim nodded in understanding. Blair would undoubtedly see the verdict as a knee-jerk reaction to the atrocity carried out outside the courthouse, and would feel badly about it even though Jim knew for sure his young friend had desperately wanted to see Blumberg go down. It was just the way Blair was. He still harboured fantasies of ‘true’, unbiased justice even if time and time again he had been faced with examples of verdicts based on bigotry and unfairness. Or worse still, trial by media. 

Nevertheless, however arrived at, the guilty verdict was the one the whole department had wanted, so Jim wasn’t about to complain. Instead, he concentrated on his colleague, wanting to know how she was really holding up. 

“Apart from the court case, how are you doing, Megs? I know you care a lot for Blair, and this had to be a shock,” and even as he said it, his mind flashed back to her tearful, devastated face as she witnessed Blair’s death and miraculous ‘resurrection’ at the fountain. She truly loved Blair as a friend, and he had no right to deny her her very real distress. 

“I’m OK, thanks, Jimbo. Not exactly bonzer. I won’t be that until he’s out of danger. But I’ll deal with it until then. Now I just want to catch up with how he’s doing.” 

Jim nodded his understanding, and told her what he could, but even as he finished, he knew that it wasn’t much. So much was unknown, and would remain so until Blair woke. _If_ he woke. 

Then again, Megan was nothing if not realistic, so she accepted the situation, however reluctantly. Instead, she turned her attention to the current situation between her best mate and his sentinel, because apart from Simon, she was still the only one who truly knew about their connection. She felt duty-bound to try and get to the bottom of their painfully tentative relationship, even if no one else in the PD appeared to have noticed it. Assassin’s stray bullets notwithstanding, it was slowly killing her best friend, and probably his sentinel hero too. 

“Can I ask you something, Jimbo?” she said, her brow creased in a perplexed frown. “It’s to do with you and Sandy, so I won’t be surprised if you tell me to bugger off. I just want to know where things are going for his sake, see?” 

Immediately bridling, Jim wanted to snap out a vehement refusal, but then caught himself. Hell, Simon had already taken him to task about how he really thought about Blair, so why not one more twist of the knife? 

Fixing his colleague with a stern gaze, he muttered, “Depends on the question, Connor. But make it quick. I need to get back to Blair.” 

“Fair enough, Jimbo. So here goes. We both know what Sandy means to you. _Does_ for you. I read the book, and I’ve seen the proof. So just how could you have let him fall on his sword for you? How could you just accept his sacrifice without coming clean? I just can’t understand it. Especially after that miracle at the fountain when that bitch Barnes drowned him. Why did you bother to bring him back when all you were going to do was ignore him ever after? Because it _was_ you, wasn’t it? Not some miraculous intervention.” 

And there she had it. The poisonous, deadly dagger that had pierced Jim’s heart and mind and wouldn’t let him go. 

And he couldn’t answer. Couldn’t find the words to express how disgusted he was with himself. For his cowardice in failing to accept his guide’s offer of a life and soul bond. _I’m not ready to take that trip with you._

And God help him, he still couldn’t. 

Shaking his head in self-deprecation, he looked up to meet her quizzical gaze, his features grim as he replied. “I’d like to tell you to piss off and mind your own business, Connor, except that I know you only have Blair’s interests at heart, and I can’t fault you for that. But right now, I can’t give you a plausible answer, because I don’t have one for myself. I’ve already been coerced into baring my soul to Simon earlier today, and I can’t take any more emotional bloodletting right now, so you’ll have to live with that. 

“What I will say, though, is that I promise to try and work through my doubts and fears for Blair’s sake, so you’ll have to be satisfied with that.” 

Megan gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment, and then nodded her acceptance. 

“Fair enough, Jimbo. I won’t press you again. Not until Sandy’s awake and aware, anyhow. And thanks for not throwing a tanty at my cheek. So, can I see him now, do you think? Just to look?” 

And Jim nodded in relief, his grin genuine as he took her arm to guide her to Blair’s cubicle. 

“No worries, Megs,” he joked gently. “I know how much you care for him, and I’m certain he knows it too.” 

Soon afterwards, Megan took her leave, after patting Blair’s cheek gently and murmuring her good wishes to him. Jim watched her go, a wry smile on his face. If Blair knew just how many people loved and needed him, he’d surely fight to get back to them. 

But Jim had the unsettling feeling that the ever-unassuming young man had no such inkling, and without that spur, he might just give up this time and let himself fade away.  


\--------------------------------  


**Three days later, Blair’s cubicle in ICU:**  


A pale and exhausted-looking Jim sat in his usual place beside his still sleeping partner, his senses once again tuned in to every physiological response in the slender form lying so still on the bed. At least now he could see more of Blair’s face now the respirator had been removed. It had been taken out the previous evening, and Jim, along with all the nursing staff, had been relieved to see Blair breathing normally for himself again. So far he had also suffered no more than a low grade fever, the heavy-duty antibiotics apparently successful in keeping infection at bay, but as yet there was still no sign of any return to consciousness, and Jim was close to despair. Blair’s attending physician in the ICU, Dr Manning, had declared himself satisfied with the healing process as far as Blair’s flesh wounds were concerned, but Jim knew he was worried about the young man’s continuing comatose state. Just that morning he had tried to offer Jim reassurance by insisting that it could be several days yet before there was any sign of improvement, but Jim’s senses told him that the man didn’t really believe his own words even if he didn’t call Manning on it. 

So Jim remained at Blair’s side, constantly monitoring his best friend, and doing what he could to help the nursing staff, having apprised them of his medical training. 

His vigil hadn’t been without respite, however, as there had been a constant stream of friends and colleagues dropping by when they could, offering comfort and support as well as bringing changes of clothes and spelling him for short periods so that he could freshen up and change. Because although he had become a more or less permanent fixture in and around Blair’s room, the ever-present risk of infection meant that there was no way he’d be allowed anywhere near the sick man in a dirty or dishevelled state. Their visits also gave him time to get something to eat, and kept him up to date with bullpen gossip, and he was truly grateful for the mild distraction. Simon, Megan, Joel, H and Rafe had all called by more than once already, and Jim knew Blair would appreciate it when he found out. 

But first he had to wake up, and Jim wished fervently that it would be soon. They had so much to talk about. So much wasted time to make up for. 

Smiling sadly, Jim reached over and rested a hand against Blair’s whiskered cheek before raising it to the exposed area of the smooth brow, feeling for a lowering in the patient’s temperature now the fever was subsiding. Reassured that Blair’s temperature was near normal now, he straightened the light blanket covering the bandage-swaddled torso, and listened carefully to the movements and sounds of Blair’s lungs. There was always a chance of pneumonia, so Blair was in a half-reclining position to ease the pressure on his ribs and chest and help him to breathe more easily. 

Satisfied that the slight wheeze and rattle he could hear was at least no worse than before, Jim was about to get up to stretch his legs when without warning, Blair began to seize. Shocked beyond belief, Jim automatically reached for the jerking body, knowing that he needed to restrain Blair so that he didn’t do himself more harm. He was aware of the room filling with medical personnel, but suddenly knew that he had to stay. Ignoring the angry and insistent hands and voices trying to get him to let go of his guide, he concentrated instead on cupping Blair’s cheeks in both hands, saying urgently, “It’s OK, Chief. Easy now. Stay with me. It’s OK!” And suddenly the glow was there, between his hands and Blair’s face. The blue light he had only seen once before on the grass beside the fountain when he had merged with his guide and brought him back. 

And even as the nursing staff finally managed to break his hold and pull him away, the miracle happened, and Blair’s eyes fluttered open. 

His guide was awake.  



	4. Prompt - telepathy

**Chapter 4: Prompt – telepathy.**   


Bleary blue eyes blinked rapidly, then gradually cleared, the anxious gaze flickering around the room as a plainly confused and frightened Sandburg tried to make sense of his surroundings. Stepping forward authoritatively, Dr Manning commanded his patient’s attention as he started in with standard routine questions while his staff automatically checked Blair’s vitals and the equipment and monitors to which Blair was still attached. 

“Do you know where you are, sir? Can you tell me your name? How do you feel? Can you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

Unsurprisingly, in Jim’s opinion at least, the questions elicited nothing but a blank and worried stare from his barely aware guide at first, but the troubled frown on Blair’s face and the convulsive working of his throat suggested that he wanted to offer some response. However, after a few seconds of what appeared to be a great effort on Blair’s part, nothing emerged, and his eyes misted and widened in incipient panic as his frantic gaze searched for the person he really needed to see. 

Pushing forward unasked, Jim moved right into Blair’s line of sight and up to the bed, ignoring Manning’s huff of indignation as his partner’s beautiful eyes met his. 

“Easy, Chief. Take it easy, OK? I’m here, Blair. Don’t worry.” 

Relief flooded Blair’s expression for a moment as Jim reached for and gently squeezed the hand nearest to him, but was soon overtaken by fear again as Blair’s mouth opened and closed in silence, emitting nothing but a low whimper. However, Jim heard him loud and clear. 

_‘Jim? Where am I? What’s wrong with me? Help me, Jim!’_

Smiling softly, Jim murmured reassurances, initially unaware that the medics around him had paused in their work and were looking oddly at him. 

“It’s going to be OK, Chief. You’re in Cascade General again, buddy. Do you remember what happened?” 

_‘I…I was at the courthouse? A…and I…I saw Megs and…I don’t know! I can’t remember!’_

“Yeah, you were, buddy. You were shot by accident, Chief. Wrong place and wrong time again, buddy. What am I going to do with you, hey? And you hit your head. But you’re going to be OK now. Now you’re awake again. You’ll see.” 

_‘B…but I can’t talk, Jim! I can’t!!’_ the panicked response was almost a scream in Jim’s head, and he suddenly realised that Manning was staring at him even as he patted Blair’s hand comfortingly. 

“Are you all right, Detective Ellison? What are you talking about? You shouldn’t be prompting your friend with information he ought to be remembering for himself. And even if he looks alert, he clearly is in no fit state to answer you. I must ask you to leave the room while we finish our work here.” 

_‘No, Jim! Please don’t go! Help me, Jim!’_

Jim’s face reflected his confusion for a moment before the penny dropped. He _could_ hear Blair, for sure. The terrified blue eyes that fixed in his face were completely aware as far as he was concerned. But Blair wasn’t vocalising anything. So how the hell could Jim hear him? Unless it was Blair’s thoughts…? 

_‘Jim! Jim!! Please, man, don’t zone on me! Please! I need you!’_ The lax hand in his own tightened minutely as Blair tried to keep him present, and Jim swallowed hard as he looked from Blair to Manning in bewilderment. 

_Well, damn! I have to be hearing Blair’s thoughts! There’s no other explanation. Gods! But how are we going to explain this without being dragged off to the funny farm?_ He could feel his own panic growing at the notion that this was yet another unexpected twist to the sentinel / guide connection that neither of them could have had any inkling about. Or was he going mad – too exhausted to think clearly? 

_‘Please, Jim, don’t leave me. It hurts, man. My head. It really hurts….’_

Immediately concentrating his attention on Blair, he saw the pale face scrunch up in pain as a bolt of agony exploded in his partner’s skull, and every one of his injuries apparently checked in all at once. The bizarre three-way conversation was immediately forgotten as Manning ordered morphine for the suffering man, and Jim stepped away to give the nurse room to treat his friend, whose face was sheened now with the sweat of real pain as tears of agony trickled from the corners of his tightly-closed eyes. 

Scant minutes later the morphine took effect and Blair relaxed into a peaceful, normal sleep pattern. Greatly relieved for his friend’s sake, Jim sighed deeply as he watched the calm face, only to look up in mild irritation as Dr Manning touched his sleeve. 

“I’d like to have a word, if I may, Detective. I think we need to discuss what just happened with Dr Sandburg,” and he held his hand out, indicating that Jim should precede him from the room. 

Jim knew he would have to comply, his mind already working overtime as to how he was going to get through this. He just hoped that he could keep it together long enough to come up with some sort of rational explanation that would satisfy the physician that didn’t include mentioning some weird type of telepathy. But he was so tired. 

Following the doctor to the overly-familiar waiting room, Jim couldn’t quite contain his wry smirk as he noted the man’s purposeful stride, his shoulders and back stiff with disapproval. _Well, this is going to be fun. Not!_ he couldn’t help thinking, feeling like a naughty schoolboy trailing his teacher to the Headmaster’s office. But it had to be done, and as he took the seat Manning indicated, inspiration of a sort struck. Deciding to take the initiative, he offered the doctor his most charming smile as he chipped in first. 

“I have to say that I’m so relieved to see my partner awake at last, Dr Manning. And I have you and your staff to thank for that, I’m sure. I realise that Dr Sandburg still has a long way to go, and probably a lot of physical therapy before he’s up and running again, so to speak, but I can tell already how much better he is.” 

Frowning suspiciously, Manning replied somewhat tersely, “And how would you know that, Detective? With Dr Sandburg yet to utter a word?” 

“Why, because we’re partners!” Jim answered brightly, as if it should be self-evident. “We’ve worked closely together for several years now, and for part of that time Dr Sandburg – Blair – roomed in my apartment. You don’t see that much of a person without getting to know their every look and gesture very well.” 

“Ah! So you were life partners, then. But not now?” Manning murmured thoughtfully, reading more into Jim’s words than he had intended. 

“No. No, not life partners,” Jim said quickly, even though a snide little voice inside whispered that it was a crying shame, and probably his own fault that they weren’t. “Just very close friends and colleagues. I’m sure you’ll have come across many such examples in police partnerships during your career. After all, sad to say, we’re all too often in the firing line in our job.” 

Not entirely convinced, but placated enough for the moment, Dr Manning nodded briefly. “OK, Detective Ellison. I think I can understand where you’re coming from, and I have already noted how devoted you are to Dr Sandburg. We’ll play it by ear for now, but now that he’s sleeping naturally again, I intend to send Dr Sandburg down for another full set of scans so that we can make an informed decision about his treatment from hereon in. I shall, of course, inform you of the results as soon as they are in.” 

With that, he got to his feet and strode off down the corridor, leaving a very relieved Jim behind. 

So far so good, but that was only the first hurdle. What he would do if Blair still didn’t speak he didn’t yet know, but at least his guide was out of his coma, and that in itself was a cause for celebration. And with that thought, he stood, and after checking to see that Blair was still sleeping, he fished out his cell phone and quickly left the ICU, seeking out an area where he could safely switch it on. He needed to call Simon and give him the good news.  


\---------------------------------  


**Several hours later, Blair’s room:**  


Jim gazed fondly down at the smooth and relaxed face of his slumbering friend, struck once again by how young Blair looked, even though he was now past thirty years old. The threshold between young manhood and old fart, according to Blair, and Jim chuckled quietly at the recollection. As far as Jim was concerned, his friend would never be old, even as a grey-haired pensioner. He suspected that Blair’s exuberance and zest for life would always be there, like his brilliant brain. 

Then again, it occurred to him that he hadn’t seen too much of that exuberance recently. The troubling thought gave him pause, and he frowned as he contemplated the reason why. 

If he was honest with himself, Blair had never been the same ever since the whole Alex Barnes affair, but Jim guiltily admitted to himself that he was mostly to blame for that. He had never been able to bring himself to really talk to his confused and hurting guide, allowing Blair to make excuses for Jim’s appalling and uncontrolled behaviour on the grounds of sentinel instincts, even as Jim denied the new connection between them. He simply hadn’t been able to accept that spiritual plane merging stuff, as always backing away from its implications even as he was grateful that it had succeeded in bringing his guide back to him. Blair had had the right of it when he had written about ‘fear-based responses’, and Jim was honest enough to admit that he was still scared. But although the second manifestation of that ‘blue light’ thing hadn’t been under quite such dramatic circumstances, and he had experienced no accompanying vision, yet apparently the results had been just as amazing. Blair had woken at his request, and now it remained to be seen how their relationship developed from hereon in. 

Because at long last, Jim recognised that he still wanted a relationship with his guide. A proper partnership, and not the travesty they were presently pursuing. He wanted Blair back safely under his roof and in his territory, where he should always have been. How many times did the young man have to get hurt because Jim had distanced himself from his guide? But this time he’d learnt his lesson. He’d told himself that Blair was better off making a life for himself away from Jim’s influence, just as he was better off alone again, unburdened by the responsibility of caring for – or about – a permanent partner. 

But he’d only been deluding himself. His senses were barely functioning in the field now, without the security of Blair’s backup, and his private and social lives were pretty much non-existent. Dammit, he was _lonely,_ and it was his own fault. But if the gods were willing, and if Blair was still the generous, forgiving man he had always been, perhaps this time Jim could get it right. 

However, first they had to make sense of this strange new phenomenon, which might well take some doing. Then again, at least this time Jim was prepared to persevere. 

In the intervening hours since Blair’s first brief return to consciousness, he had undergone a whole slew of scans and tests, all without waking up again. However, this time his sleep was deep but natural and healing, so it wasn’t a cause for concern. The potential problems would arise once he woke up again, if he was still unable to speak, and Jim couldn’t help but worry about that. 

He had called Simon and told him the good news about Blair’s awakening, but had refrained from mentioning the whole freaky telepathy incident. With luck, it was just some sort of aberration which wouldn’t repeat itself, but that was undoubtedly wishful thinking on Jim’s part, and he knew it. But if it did recur, as long as he could convince Blair that he wasn’t being left high and dry this time, they would deal with its repercussions together. 

As he gently bathed Blair’s face, his senses – which were now functioning perfectly in his guide’s presence, thank you very much – warned him that the young man was about to reawaken. Jim hoped fervently that he would have the opportunity to talk privately with his guide, if ‘talk’ was the appropriate term, before they were interrupted by the nursing staff, or, more awkwardly, by the uncomfortably inquisitive Dr Manning. For sure, the man was only doing his job, but right now sentinel and guide needed a little time to reconnect. 

Moments later, two sleepy blue eyes opened, and turned their slightly unfocussed gaze on Jim. A beautiful, gentle smile stretched the delectable mouth as the tip of a pink tongue appeared, moistening the plump flesh of Blair’s lips as full consciousness returned. 

“Hey, Chief, how’re you doing?” Jim murmured affectionately. “Do you need a drink? It’s allowed, as long as you don’t have too much.” 

Blair nodded slightly, an eager and hopeful gleam lighting his eyes as Jim poured a small glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand, adding a straw before holding it to Blair’s mouth. The young man took several sips, savouring the soothing moisture before Jim removed the glass. 

“That’s enough for now, babe,” he said, the small endearment falling unconsciously from his lips. “You’ll be on a restricted, liquid diet now you’re awake, but more about that later. How do you feel?” 

Hoping against hope, he waited anxiously for Blair’s response, only to be disappointed once again as Blair tried but failed to speak. However, he contained his own frustration, as Blair’s had to be so much worse as evidenced by the despairing grimace that twisted the younger man’s features. 

_‘Oh, goddess, Jim, I can’t! My throat won’t do what I want it to! What’ll I do?’_ The anguish in the mental cry came through to Jim loud and clear again, and his own face mirrored Blair’s pain. 

“Hush, Chief. I don’t know what’s going on with you, I admit, but while you were sleeping, the docs took a whole new set of scans. Dr Manning promised me a full run-down on the results, and there might be something there that explains this – this wordless thing we have going on. 

“But what I wanted to say was that I think we should keep it between ourselves for now. If they start thinking that there’s some weirdness going on, we could be looking at a whole new set of problems over and above the sentinel stuff we already know about. Or an extension of it. What do you think? I for one don’t want to see you subjected to a barrage of tests any more than I want them. I’ve had more than enough of testing, and at least yours were done sympathetically and produced good results, even if I didn’t appreciate it at the time.” 

Blair nibbled his lower lip nervously for a moment, plainly sizing up the situation as his scientific brain got to grips with this new and scary situation. 

_‘Ah, I think you could be right, man. I mean, I’m assuming – I HOPE – that you’re the only one who can hear my thoughts. I don’t really feel up to too much analysis right now. I’m sorry, Jim, but my head’s hurting like a son-of-a-bitch still. But please don’t get the nurse yet. I want to ‘talk’ a bit more yet, OK?’_

“Sure thing, buddy. I want that too. So look, I managed to put Manning off when he questioned me about my apparently having an imaginary conversation with you last time. But if we want to keep this between ourselves, we’re going to have to be careful, OK? One thing I’d like to confirm though. Can you ‘hear’ my thoughts, Chief, or is it just one way?” 

Blair frowned at his words, and then looked thoughtful. _‘I don’t know, Jim. Let’s try, shall we? It would be so cool if we could communicate like that all the time!’_

Jim shook his head with a rueful grin. Trust Blair to see the positive in this even lying in his sick bed. “OK, buddy, let’s do this. What am I thinking?” and he gazed into Blair’s wide blue eyes, concentrating on sending a heart-felt message to his partner. One that asked for his forgiveness and for the chance to try again. 

For long moments, Blair held his gaze, his brow wrinkled in concentration before his face fell in frustrated disappointment. 

_‘No, Jim. I’m so sorry, man. I didn’t get anything from you. I’m sorry.’_

Reaching out to take Blair’s hand, Jim smiled gently. “Never mind, Chief. Don’t get too upset. Maybe it’s a special sort of one-way guide thing. You know, a way for us to get around your present inability to vocalise. And maybe when you get your voice back, it’ll go away again.” 

Blair’s responding smile was sad, but accepting. 

_‘Perhaps you’re right, Jim. And it’s still kinda cool, I guess. But what about if I never get my voice back?_ and Jim could ‘hear’ the plaintive quality in his friend’s question. 

“Don’t borrow trouble, Chief. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. _If_ we get to it. But one thing I promise, babe. Whatever happens, we’ll do it together this time.” 

Blair’s smile this time was wide and happy, his eyes aglow with love and gratitude. 

_‘Thanks, Jim. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear those words from you.’_

“Oh, I think maybe I do, Chief. But I was too much of a selfish bastard to accept it. Not any more though,” and he squeezed the smaller hand clutched in his, wishing he could give the younger man a proper hug, but swathed as he was in bandages, that would be some time in coming. 

Just then, the door opened to reveal Dr Manning, his bright, inquisitive gaze taking in their position as two sets of blue eyes were raised to his. 

“I see Dr Sandburg is awake again, Detective. Can you tell me how he seems?” 

Glancing at Blair and offering a surreptitious wink, Jim squeezed his hand again, hoping that Blair got the message. But even in this condition, Blair was nothing if not quick off the mark, and he settled back to listen with interest as Jim answered the physician’s query blandly. 

“He hasn’t been awake long, doctor, but he certainly seems to be much more alert. Although he still can’t speak, we’ve been communicating fairly well. Simplistic as it sounds, the ‘one blink for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no’ option conveys quite a lot of information.” 

Nodding briefly, this time in approval, Dr Manning came over to join them. Although not intentionally condescending, his tone set Jim’s teeth on edge anyway as he addressed Blair as if he were a child. Or gods forbid, an obviously brain-damaged adult. 

“Good afternoon, Dr Sandburg. How are you feeling now? Can you show me?” 

Containing his own irritation, Blair offered him a small smile instead, and nodded slightly. 

“Good, that’s good. So, does your head hurt?” One blink. “That would be a yes, then?” One blink and small nod. 

“OK, then. I’ll get you something for that in a moment. And how about your shoulder? Have you been told about your other wounds?” Two blinks, puzzled frown. 

“I’m sorry, I’m moving too fast aren’t I?” the physician grinned apologetically. “Does your shoulder hurt much?” One blink. “Right. I’ll check that for you before I go also. And have you been told about your other wounds? By Detective Ellison?” Two blinks, slight head shake. 

“Right then. If you’re up to it, I can give you – give you both – an update, and then I’ll leave you in peace for a while. I need to get a second opinion on your scan results, Dr Sandburg, and I’ll get back to you on that in due course.” 

Still unconsciously employing somewhat simplistic terminology, Manning filled Blair in on the extent of the damage caused by the bullet wounds, and explained what he could expect in the form of follow-up therapy. The good news, however, as far as both Jim and Blair were concerned, was that, providing the scan results didn’t show anything potentially life-threatening, Blair would be able to move to a regular ward within a day or two to continue his recuperation and treatment there. Certainly he would still have a long way to go, but a regular ward was far less rigorous and scary than ICU, however competent and sympathetic the staff. 

By the time he was done, however, Blair’s eyes were drooping with fatigue again, so Manning did a swift check of his healing wounds and left them in peace again. But not without remonstrating with Jim first. 

“I want you to go home and get some proper rest tonight, Detective. Dr Sandburg will no doubt sleep through the night, and is out of immediate danger. I don’t expect to see you back here until tomorrow morning, OK?” 

Jim would have argued vociferously at that, but was distracted by a small ‘voice’ in his head. 

_‘He’s right Jim. You look like shit, man, and I’d never forgive myself if you got sick from looking after me. I’ll be fine, Jim. Jus’ goin’ to sleep…’_

And when Jim glanced back at his friend he saw that Blair was already well away, snoring softly and looking thoroughly adorable. 

“OK, Dr Manning. I’ll go home. But I’ll be back first thing, OK?” 

“Fair enough, Detective. See you tomorrow,” and with that, the doctor left the room, certain that the big cop would follow orders this time.  


\-----------------------------------  


**Following morning, in the ICU:**  


Once again Jim was to be found at Blair’s bedside, but this time looking and feeling much better in himself. When he had called Simon to update him on Blair’s condition, and tell him about the doctor’s orders concerning himself, Simon had insisted on coming to get him and driving him home to the loft, promising to collect him for the return trip in the morning. 

Although still resentful of being sent away, Jim admitted reluctantly that the night’s sleep in his own bed, plus a long, luxurious shower, had made him feel 100% better, and more able to devote his full attention to Blair. Not only that, but Simon had confirmed that he had signed Jim off for as long as he needed, quietly rejoicing to see the improvement in Jim’s attitude and his new-found determination to fix things between himself and Sandburg. 

When he had dropped Jim off earlier that morning, Simon had visited Blair briefly to see for himself how his favourite young consultant was doing. Although clearly in some discomfort, Blair had offered him a welcoming smile, and had listened to the big captain’s somewhat awkward pleasantries with apparent interest, but it soon became obvious how uncomfortable Simon was with Blair’s unnatural silence, so he soon took his leave. Blair understood how his friend must feel, but it was still painful for him, as he ‘confessed’ to Jim afterwards. It was to be hoped that, once they had figured out for themselves how best to cover Blair’s enforced mutism, their friends and colleagues would eventually become more accepting. 

But for now, Jim was upbeat, having helped Blair with his bed bath and shave. Clean and refreshed, Blair looked so much better, and his inherent optimism buoyed him up, even though he silently griped to Jim about the amount of medication he was still on, and the revolting taste and texture of the liquid diet he was going to have to put up with until his gut healed properly. 

Grinning sympathetically, Jim patted his friend’s blanket covered leg, only to be distracted by the arrival of Dr Manning, who this time was accompanied by another man. 

“Good morning, gentlemen. Allow me to introduce Dr Gittens. He is our resident neurologist, and I’ve asked him here to help explain the results of Dr Sandburg’s scans.” 

Dr Gittens was a slim, pleasant-looking middle aged man, who approached the partners with a small but friendly and open smile. Holding out his hand to each of them in turn, he addressed Bair directly, and without any of the unconscious condescension Dr Manning was wont to employ. 

“Dr Sandburg, I’m pleased to see you looking so much better. I’m here to try and explain to you what I believe your latest set of scans has revealed, and although it would be wrong of me to build your hopes up, there is good news. If at any point, you need clarification, please let me know, because I understand that there is nothing wrong with your hearing or comprehension, am I right?” 

Blair nodded firmly, meeting the man’s steady gaze with a similar one of his own. 

“Very well, then. I’ll begin by saying that the good news is that there is no sign at all of any damage to your throat or vocal chords. No physical reason why you should not be able to speak. And that in itself gives up hope for the future. Having said that, there are other complications to take into account, so please hear me out. 

“Do you understand what I mean when I refer to the Broca’s and Wernicke’s Areas of the brain?” 

Although Jim had no idea what he was getting at, he wasn’t surprised when Blair nodded quickly, raising a slightly shaky hand to point to the left side of his head and then to his mouth and throat. 

“Ah, that’s good. You are obviously aware of the connection of those areas with comprehension and the ability to form coherent speech. As an anthropologist, no doubt you’ll have covered the subject of the evolution of language,” and he exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Blair when the younger man nodded eagerly. 

“Right then. So what I’m about to tell you might not prove to be as unexpected as I might have believed, but at the same time, I hope you won’t be too disheartened at my conclusions. 

“Although the principal damage to your skull was at the back, where my very competent surgical team had to remove a few bone splinters, the consequent swelling of the brain hid for a while the damage to the left hemisphere where Broca’s and Wernicke’s are situated. However, now that swelling has reduced, it would appear that there are noticeable changes in those areas. It could have been caused by the violence of the concussion literally rattling the brain inside your skull, or by the swelling itself. Who knows? But the upshot is that that is the most likely reason behind your present mutism, although I have high hopes that the damage might repair itself in time, so that you will be able to talk again. The brain, after all, is a wonderful organ, capable of so much more than we know at present. 

“What I mean, Dr Sandburg, is that where our brains are concerned, there are no absolutes.” 

For a protracted moment, Blair turned away from them all to stare unseeingly at the wall, obviously trying to come to terms with what he had been told. However, when he turned back again, Jim couldn’t have been more proud of him. Despite the very real hurt and disappointment reflected in his expression, the resolution in his eyes was humbling to behold. And when he raised his hand to take Gittens’, even the life-hardened professional medic was touched by his silent courage. 

With nothing more to add, the two men politely took their leave, and Jim moved his chair as close to the bed as possible in order to offer comfort and support to his friend. 

“I’m sorry, Blair. I know you hoped for something more concrete than that. I mean, I know nothing about those brain areas he mentioned, even though I’m not surprised that you do. There’s not much you don’t have squirrelled away in that brilliant noggin of yours, babe. 

“But as far as I’m concerned, as long as we have hope, then that’s the main thing. And in the meantime, we have what we have, and I’m grateful for that.” 

Blair smiled wanly as he gazed at his sentinel, drinking in the love and support he could see in the cornflower blue eyes. 

_‘Thanks, Jim. You’re right, and I am grateful. I survived, and I’ve found you again. What’s not to like?’_ and he chuckled softly, his vocal chords proving that they were at least up for that. 

As for Jim, he determinedly swallowed down his own disappointment. Yes, it would be painful never to hear those soothing, dark chocolate tones again, but he still had Blair. He still had the man who he now knew was part of his reason for being. 

And he was never going to let him go again.  



	5. Prompt - Chosen family

**Chapter 5: Prompt – Chosen family:**   


The loft, one month later: 

_‘Go, Jim! I’ll be fine! Stop worrying, man!’_ Blair grinned and made shooing motions with his hands from where he sat on the sofa, fond irritation on his attractive face as he watched Jim hovering in the doorway. 

“Are you sure, Chief? I mean, this’ll be the first time I’ve left you to fend for yourself. Is there anything else you want me to do before I go?” 

Shaking his head and smiling warmly at his partner, so caught up in full ‘mother hen’ mode, Blair felt a surge of love for the man who had always had his heart, and who had now admitted that he was finally ready to take that trip with Blair; partners forever after, whatever life might throw at them. 

_‘I’m absolutely sure, man. I have everything I need, and you don’t need to be late on your first full day back at work, do you? And if I do need anything, I’ll call, OK? You’ll be able to tell who it is by the silence at the end of the line,’_ and he laughed merrily at the pained grimace that flashed across Jim’s handsome face. 

“OK, OK, I’m going, babe. Don’t forget you have a therapy session at 2.00 pm, and there’s home-made soup in the refrigerator….” but at Blair’s wry grin and exaggerated nod, Jim’s voice tailed off as he accepted his good-natured dismissal. With a final loving, if still anxious, glance, he closed the door behind him, leaving the most important person in his life alone to take care of himself for a few hours. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Blair capable of taking care of himself. Not really. But he’d gotten so used to being there for his young lover ever since the shooting that it would seem odd without him close by. 

Sighing and shaking his head at his own insecurity, he headed for the stairs, his senses still wrapped around his guide, and noting the steady, untroubled heartbeats. Yes, Blair would be fine, and truth be told, Jim was actually looking forward to spending the day in the bullpen, catching up with his and Blair’s friends and generally enjoying the change of scene. And no doubt Blair would quite like a few hours without Jim’s constant hovering too, so with a lighter heart, Jim jogged down the final flight of steps and exited the building to climb into his truck and head off for the PD. 

As he drove, Jim couldn’t help but think about how far they’d come since that dreadful day when he had nearly lost Blair again. Physically, Blair was recovering well. After being transferred to a regular ward from ICU, with Jim’s whole-hearted support, he had worked with staff and therapists to gradually regain as much movement as he could while the soft tissue damage healed, and had stoically endured the vile-tasting liquid diet, grateful when at last he was able to progress to soft foods. As ever, he had grumbled incessantly about the amount of medication he was forced to take, but Jim knew that the severe headaches to which he was now prone would be intolerable without them. Then again, the good thing was that such headaches seemed to be getting less frequent as time went on, so it was to be hoped that eventually they would cease altogether. 

When the day had come just a week ago that he was discharged under medical supervision, Jim was greatly relieved that Blair had agreed to return to the loft with him. Not only was it Jim’s greatest wish to have his guide back under his roof, but it was also the perfect answer to Blair’s on-going home care. With Simon’s and their other MCU colleagues’ help, Jim had arranged for Blair’s apartment to be vacated, his belongings boxed up and transported over to 852 Prospect, there to be unpacked and intermingled with Jim’s possessions. Jim had wanted Blair to feel at home as soon as he set foot in the loft, and although he had yet to tell Blair, he had taken the step of putting the young man’s name on the lease, so that whatever happened, he would always have a real home. 

And it had worked out just as he had hoped. With a fond smile, he recalled Blair’s reaction when the tired and aching young man had been helped over the threshold into #307, Jim’s strong, supportive arm around his waist. Gazing around him, Blair’s beautiful eyes had filled with tears of joy and happiness, his still fragile emotional state precluding any attempt at stoicism. Not that Jim minded one bit. He was perfectly happy to return Blair’s heart-felt hug, only glad that his ploy had worked out so well. 

And so they had settled back into their familiar routine, except that Blair now shared Jim’s bed upstairs. To be sure, to begin with Blair was far too weakened to do anything more than cuddle, but as his strength returned, they had grown just a little more ambitious. Touching, fondling and careful making out had progressed to mutually satisfying hand jobs, and both men knew that it wouldn’t be too much longer now before they could indulge in the ‘real thing’, as Blair called it. He had made no bones about the fact that he wanted Jim to take him, and as far as Jim was concerned, that would be the greatest gift he could receive. 

Jim knew he’d truly appreciate it when the time was right, but in the meantime, his inner sentinel was perfectly happy to be allowed to imprint and enjoy his beautiful guide’s body to his heart’s content, and judging by Blair’s reciprocating purrs and mental ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahhs’, it was obvious that he felt the same way. 

To be sure, not everything was going so well. Blair’s continuing mutism put a dampener on their overall contentment, but as with everything else, he was working on that too. He had taught himself ASL – American Sign Language – years ago as a teaching aid, and he had always unconsciously employed eloquent hand movements which worked in counterpoint to his spoken words. That, coupled with mobile, expressive features, and an impressive ability to mime meant that to a great extent he could communicate quite adequately without words. Jim reckoned he could go on stage, he was so entertaining, but all that had earned him was a bop on the head and a fond chuckle from his partner. 

The main thing was that, at least as far as their friends and close colleagues were concerned, Blair’s inability to speak didn’t pose too much of a problem as far as basic communication went, and they had soon grown to accept the new version of their favourite consultant. Even Simon was no longer uneasy in Blair’s presence, able to relax in the face of the young man’s determined cheerfulness. Bedsides, between Blair and Jim there was no impediment anyway, thanks to the weird, one-sided telepathy Blair was able to employ. If that was some bizarre sentinel / guide side-effect of their second ‘mini-merge’, as Blair was wont to call it, they certainly weren’t questioning it or complaining. And they weren’t about to ‘fess up to their miraculous secret weapon either. 

Always optimistic, Blair believed that he would soon be able to return to work, armed with signing, the written word, and his laptop; even though Jim knew he was putting a brave face on things. The spoken word had always meant such a lot to his guide, but as Dr Gittens had said, there was always hope that the mental connections could be re-forged eventually. And in that belief, Blair had started working with a speech therapist friend, and who knew what results that might bring about in time? 

All in all, Jim considered that they had been lucky. Blair had survived the shooting, and they had found each other again. Sentinel and guide were together as they should always have been, and their friends were still their friends, and supported them unconditionally. 

The one real downside to their re-established relationship was the reaction of Jim’s father. They had no idea of what Naomi would make of them, since she was still incommunicado, apparently still travelling in order to process the aftermath of the diss disaster which she had unwittingly set in motion over a year ago now. However, such prolonged absences weren’t out of the ordinary for her, and as Blair confessed, he hadn’t truly forgiven her himself, however often he had assured her that he had. She had not only almost destroyed his life and career, but more importantly, had hurt Jim too, as well as causing their friends serious injury, and that Blair couldn’t forgive. 

On the other hand, William Ellison had made his opinion known very soon after Blair had returned to the loft. Jim’s jaw clenched and his hands gripped the wheel tightly as he re-lived that unpleasant incident, although his anger was mostly on Blair’s behalf. Jim himself hadn’t expected anything else from his father, but he couldn’t forgive how Blair had been the undeserving target of William’s wrath. 

Only the day after Blair’s return, there had been a peremptory knock on the door. Blair had been tucked up comfortably on the sofa at the time, and Jim had been in the middle of checking his dressings which was why he hadn’t gotten to the door sooner. 

At Blair’s quizzical look, Jim had said, “It’s Dad, Chief. I don’t know what he’ll want, as I wasn’t expecting him, but I doubt it’ll be anything good. Don’t worry, babe. I’ll get rid of him as soon as possible.” 

_‘It’s OK, Jim. After all, it’s thanks to him that I managed to get that settlement after all. And another shot at my doctorate. So he can’t be all bad.”_

It was typical of Blair to try and see the best in everyone, but Jim was way more cynical as he replied, “Yeah, but his reasons weren’t the best, babe, so don’t expect too much,” and with that, he had opened the door to admit his very angry parent. 

William had glanced around the room, glaring daggers at Blair when he spotted the smaller man lying on the sofa, warmly covered by an afghan. 

“So, you came back, did you? After getting out of my son’s face and out of his home at last, I thought we’d seen the last of you. But no! You ungrateful hippy sponger! You take advantage of my money and my good faith, and you crawl back into Jimmy’s life like the fatherless piece of trash that you are! How dare you!” 

As Blair gasped and blanched in shock and hurt, Jim had almost literally gone for his father’s throat. It was only Blair’s pleading voice in his head that prevented him from committing patricide there and then. 

Even so, William had back-pedaled in horror at the cold, deadly glare his son levelled at him as he growled, “No, _Dad!_ How dare _you?_ Blair has done more for me than anyone has ever done. He loves me unconditionally, and he has helped this ‘freak’ for years with no other reward but the lash of my tongue on too many occasions. He has suffered so many times for his loyalty, I can’t begin to count them all. And now he has done me the honour of agreeing to come back to me, even after the shitty way I’ve treated him. If you thought that your money and influence could buy him off, then you’re going to be sadly disappointed. Blair is my partner in all ways, and if you can’t stomach that, then tough. Get out, and don’t come back unless you change your attitude towards my partner. 

“And don’t even _think_ of approaching Blair again, or threatening him in any way. Because if you do, then _I will kill you!_ And that’s a promise!” 

William had blustered for a moment, but then common sense and self-preservation had taken over, and he had exited the loft as quickly as he had entered. 

Crossing immediately to take his trembling and shaken partner in his arms, Jim had murmured, “I’m so sorry, babe. So sorry you had to hear that. The miserable old bastard can get lost for all I care. I never want to see him again.” 

And Blair had tucked his face against Jim’s shoulder as he ‘replied’ sadly, _‘It’s OK, Jim. I’m OK. I mean, that wasn’t nice, but I understand now what was behind his generosity. I wasn’t sure before, but I guessed as much, which is why I felt I had to get out of your life after the badge offer. Whatever his reasoning, he only wanted the best for you. But I had hoped he didn’t hold it against me so much. I wanted so much to help you two get back some sort of relationship.’_

“That’s something you should never feel bad about, babe. It’s his decision; his attitude that has destroyed any chance of getting together again. If I never see him again, it’ll be too soon.” 

Abruptly, Jim realised he was approaching the PD’s underground parking garage, and he relaxed his killer grip on the wheel, a wry, self-deprecating smirk on his face. _Bad job, Ellison!_ he thought. _Such heavy thoughts when you should be counting your blessings! Shame on you! What would Blair say?_

Climbing out of the truck, he made his way over to the elevators, good humour restored, and nodding a cheerful greeting to H, who had sauntered over to join him. 

No, there was absolutely no need to spare a thought, bad or otherwise, for his incorrigible parent. Blair was his family now, all he would ever need. A family of his own choosing, which was by far the best thing that he had ever done.  


**The End**


End file.
